loyalty, was more than he could see. His was not the tongue to do

it.

Macconochie was chief upon the other side; an old, ill-spoken,

swearing, ranting, drunken dog; and I have often thought it an odd

circumstance in human nature that these two serving-men should each

have been the champion of his contrary, and blackened their own

faults and made light of their own virtues when they beheld them in

a master. Macconochie had soon smelled out my secret inclination,

took me much into his confidence, and would rant against the Master

by the hour, so that even my work suffered. "They're a' daft

here," he would cry, "and be damned to them! The Master - the

deil's in their thrapples that should call him sae! it's Mr. Henry

should be master now! They were nane sae fond o' the Master when

they had him, I'll can tell ye that. Sorrow on his name! Never a

guid word did I hear on his lips, nor naebody else, but just

fleering and flyting and profane cursing - deil hae him! There's

nane kent his wickedness: him a gentleman! Did ever ye hear tell,

Mr. Mackellar, o' Wully White the wabster? No? Aweel, Wully was

an unco praying kind o' man; a dreigh body, nane o' my kind, I

never could abide the sight o' him; onyway he was a great hand by

his way of it, and he up and rebukit the Master for some of his on-

goings. It was a grand thing for the Master o' Ball'ntrae to tak

up a feud wi' a' wabster, wasnae't?" Macconochie would sneer;

indeed, he never took the full name upon his lips but with a sort

of a whine of hatred. "But he did! A fine employ it was:

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